


Falling

by CarnationGem (Akumeoi)



Series: Ciavran [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, First Time, HAIM - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-11-09 05:06:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11097507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akumeoi/pseuds/CarnationGem
Summary: Ciara Tabris learns of the Wardens' curse - to die young. In her despair, she finds herself seeking out a friend. For the first time, she allows herself to go to Zevran. To be with him. To fall.(Aka, f!Tabris x Zevran first time.)





	Falling

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the song [Falling](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_acBVglVBcY) by HAIM, which I consider to be Ciara's theme song.

“Well, technically, we have the Blight. We’ll both be dead in about 30 years anyway.”

Alistair’s words echoed hollowly around Ciara’s mind. Dead? In 30 years? She was still an unmarried child in the eyes of her people, but already destined to die before she was old. That was all she had been thinking about for the past 20 minutes.

She just… she felt so tired and alone, and she couldn’t face the thought of going into her tent by herself tonight. But neither did she want to sit here in front of the slowly dying fire until it go so cold that she was forced to go to bed. If only she could talk to someone about this. If only she were back in the alienage, sitting on the roof with Shianni and a bottle of wine or two. There was no way she could discuss this with anyone here. Even Alistair was out of the question - she couldn’t share her real thoughts with him. It was her job to keep up morale, to pretend everything was going to be fine.

She looked around the campfire. All was calm that evening, static and still. Most of her party members had turned in early, save for Leliana and Wynne, who were conversing with each other, Morrigan, who was off by herself doing goodness-knows-what, and Zevran. She couldn’t tell what he was doing either. Maybe nothing, just like her.

Zevran. Two nights ago he had asked her to sleep with him - at least, that’s what she thought he had been saying. Hah. Like he was hard to understand. At the time she had turned him down, because she hadn’t wanted to encourage her nebulous feelings for him more than she already did when she let herself flirt with him. The last thing she needed was to have her heart broken on top of everything else.

But could she really feel worse than she already did? And if that offer still stood… it meant she didn’t have to go to bed alone tonight, not if she didn’t want to.

 _Am I that desperate?_ she wondered.

For a moment, the answer to that question seemed to hang in the air, the world itself pausing as Ciara tried to decide whether she wanted to break centuries of clan tradition and possibly fall in love with someone she could never have and keep, just because she was lonely.

And then the world re-oriented around the word “Yes.”

_And now I’m falling._

She walked over to Zevran and sat down beside him on the log they had dragged out of the forest to use as a seat. Looking up from his contemplation of the fire, he said, “Good evening, Warden.”

Ciara opened her mouth, and suddenly felt like she was floating. What she was about to say was beyond unreal, and it scared her. “Good evening, Zevran,” she said, smiling in what she hoped was a flirtatious way. “Would you care to join me in my tent?”

She saw surprise flit across his face, but then he was all charm again, as usual. “Oh? Is there something in your tent that needs assassinating? That is my speciality, or so I’m told.”

Normally she would have laughed at a line like that, but at the moment her brain was still trying to process “I’m asking Zevran to bed.”

“I bet you’re good at a lot of things,” was what she finally managed to come up with.

Zevran raised his eyebrows. “Hmm. That’s quite an offer, especially from such a beautiful woman… if we are both speaking of the same thing.”

Ciara would never understand his insistence that she was anything other than ridiculously average in looks, but at least it seemed that he knew what she was getting at. And that he was willing. Not that she had expected him not to be. But still, thank goodness.

“Does this coy thing work for you much?” she heard herself say. Zevran swept aside some of the hair from her face. The first time he had ever touched her when not in battle, and his hands were incredibly gentle.

“On the odd occasion…” he said, leaning towards her, “Yes.”

He kissed her.

_And now I’m falling._

If Ciara had thought the night was quiet before, she would have been shocked by the hush that now fell over the campsite as everyone who was still awake stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at their glorious leader kissing the man who had once been hired to kill her. But Ciara didn’t even notice, because she was already giving herself over to Zevran’s warm hands on her waist and his lips softly covering hers.

Breaking the kiss, he inclined his head towards the direction of her tent and asked, “Shall we, my Grey Warden?”

“Don’t call me that tonight,” Ciara murmured, her eyes catching his. _Forget, forget._ In his gaze she read a certain softness which she had not expected, and it was this, more than the way one of his hands was caressing her side, which made her suddenly feel weak.

“As you wish… Ciara,” he said, steering her towards the tent with a light touch of his hand.

Once inside, Ciara kicked off her shoes and sat down on her bedroll. Zevran followed suit. It took them a moment to figure out how to fit their bodies together in the confines of the tent, but soon he was kissing her again, his hands under her tunic. Ciara hardly knew what to do with her own hands, but instinct told her that copying him was a good place to start. In short order she found both of their shirts discarded on the floor beside them, and Zevran moving to undo her camisole. She stroked the strong muscles of his stomach and marvelled at how warm and soft and alive they felt. Feeling desire rise within her, she leaned forward and put her lips on his chest, and was gratified by the sound of surprised pleasure he gave in result.

“You’re eager, my lovely Ciara,” he commented, and Ciara wondered for a moment at herself. There was some kind of clawing, desperate need in the pit of her stomach, and it made her whole being sing.

Oh, Zevran was beautiful. She found herself eager to take every scar and every line of his body. To steal them for her memories, to drink him in like some kind of light. Yet she could not tell if it was only the sex or if it was Zevran himself who was making her feel like this. All other thoughts had fallen away.

Her camisole was on the ground now too. Zevran cupped one hand around her breast and she swallowed, never having allowed anyone else to touch her there before. But the softness had not left his eyes, and she leaned back in to let him him kiss her and stroke her and slowly begin to move his hands downwards.

_Into the fire, feeling higher than the truth_  
_I can feel the heat but I’m not burning_

After that, there was nothing but a torrent of fractured sensations, a strangely melodic whirl of touch and sound and glimpses of sight through half-shuttered eyes. His hands seemed to be all over her body at once: on her breasts, on her stomach, on her back, on her thighs. His lips and teeth too, nipping gently at her neck, marking her chest. So soft against her skin, then sharp and wanting as he bit down. His hot breath enveloped her like a cloud, punctured with moans and sighs and the sound of both their names.

This, too, was unreal. But it was unreal in a way that made her yearn for it to last forever, and she allowed herself to hope for a second that Zevran felt the same.

_Never look back, never give up._


End file.
